Jump Zee Shot
by FadedScribbles
Summary: Slightly AU-ish, rated T While I tossed airplanes willy-dilly at infuriating researchers, I noticed outside my glass alcove, a man at a desk. He hadn't been there long, he had arrived about 30 minutes ago. And by god he looked like he could use a rest.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first story in about a year, so I hope I've improved in writing enough to not make you cringe from horrible grammar and spelling. This is also my first Romantically Apocalyptic fanfiction, an addition to a archive that I wish had more submissions. Before you begin reading this, I would like to advise you that the facts in this story are up in the air if they are actually true or not, something we have to wait for Vitaly's head nod before we can make accurate shots in the dark. But, since I'll probably be waiting forever once any of my facts in this story are disproved, I figured I'd jump off the edge and try my luck at fanfiction writing again. I warn you that if this does turn out not to be a flump, then updates will be rather slow. Anyhow, I present to you the first addition, and hopefully not last addition, with more to come, of this fanfiction, Jump Zee Shot

* * *

Many believe me out of my mind. Perhaps they are partly correct. But there's more to me than what I let on to most. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Captain. I have more to my name, but for now Captain will do.

Think for a moment. You are in the post-apocalyptic world with two men, who you may or may not be partly responsible of and for their lives. One has become damaged goods and can no longer think like the regular man. The other is a stressed individual who has a great physique but requires much pushing. They look to you for both hope and reason for going on in a world that could be doomed to lose all humanity. Would you really want to tell them that no, there is no reason to go on, no purpose in which you can rise from the ashes like a phoenix from its grave?

I think not. Which brings my next question. What would you tell two men who need and wish reason to go on? I shall proceed to answer my question, so you may cease your verbiage. I would go deep into the recesses of my own dehinged mind and acquire the most useful of tactics and present them so to my troops. Even the most bizarre of requests would do. Find me a flying machine, Pilot. Acquire this important list of items for me, Snippy. Both merely ploys to keep the two of them busy and occupied from thoughts of depression and other darkly thinking's.

So yes, I do send two mortal men on the most insane and outrageous expeditions and searches known to man, if it were to be recorded in history. Technically, it could be counted into Captainia history, but that's another matter to attend to at another better suited time.

I have acquired another member to our meager little trio, now a better suited quartet. Engie, or better known before the fallout as Dr. Alexander Gromov, a leading scientist for GOOD Directorate Inc. How do I know this? He was the one to make me a Captain in the military, as well as give me another one of my many names. Subject Seven. Yes, a subject to a test. At least, part-time.

You see, I did more than just test the whims and patience of scientists alike during test sessions, I observed others. While I tossed airplanes willy-dilly at infuriating researchers, I noticed outside my glass alcove, a man at a desk. He hadn't been there long, he had arrived about 30 minutes ago.

And by god he looked like he could use a rest. His dark brunette hair was disheveled as if he just rolled out of bed. From his brief glances about the room, I could see bright blue eyes, that had lost their shine, as well as noticeable dark bags hanging below them. He had his head held in his hands when I looked over at him again. He shifted it to look ahead of him, and I could see from my place that his eyelids sunk lower and lower, before he collapsed on his desk, presumably asleep.

By this time the scientists with me in my test room noticed my pause in throwing paper projectiles and began to approach me with apprehension. I turned back to them and sent another one at them, sailing threw the air before hitting a man in the shoulder. He glanced down at the impact point, then back to me. His expression could only be described as most displeased and unimpressed. Humph, I don't see him making make wonderful flying machines out of scrapes of paper, most likely tables and research papers the group of scientists had worked on.

The glass window rose into the ceiling, granting me access to the sleepy man's desk. Glancing to see if any of my 'co-workers' were to stop me, I briskly walked out of my test zone and briskly walked up to the man's desk, and bending over to examine his face more clearly.

Stubble on both sides of his jaw. Scruffy dark brown hair, or possible enough to me as black. His face was rather thin as well. When the scientists caught up to me, probably thinking I was about maim one of the employees, I noticed something else. Peculiar, I remember thinking. No neural interface transmitter. As the scientist began to drag me, I made sure to look at his desk nameplate to know just who this non-transmitter man was. Behind my gas-masked covered face, unbeknownst to anyone but myself, I smiled.

Charles Snippy. I would have to check the Good Directorate's database on him once I was away from all these skeptical test-tubers.

* * *

Once I was away far enough, in ANNET's control room, I quickly accessed the data files on the employees of GOOD DIRECTORATE. I quickly began typing away for Charlies' file, when I heard a purring motor rise behind me.  
"SUBJECT SEVEN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DOES ALEXANDER KNOW YOU'RE HERE?"

ANNET. Excellent. I decided to ignore her. I had typed Charlies' first name, but the company apparently had over 600 Charles in their brackets. I had typed in a capital 's', when ANNET started again.

"SUBJECT SEVEN, ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMEBODY?"

"Yes, indeed I am." I answered, hoping that was enough to make her bug somebody else. I could tell she knew I was up to something else. I also think she was jealous, since her precious Alexander was paying more attention to my test sessions than to his darling Annie nowadays. So the robotic hard-drive had more than enough reason to hinder me in my quests in her eyes, if she had any.

"WHY? YOU HAVE NO REASON TO SEARCH FOR ANOTHER BODY. NO ONE IS CERTAINLY GOING TO GRANT YOU ACCESS TO THEM. YOU'RE TOO IMPORTANT TO THE RESEARCH. BESIDES, YOU GET ENOUGH ATTENTION, WHY WOULD YOU NEED MORE? I COULD GIVE YOU A HUG IF YOU'D WANT!" I glanced as she protruded two long rounded cones attached to her main frame, her equal to arms. Unimpressed, I finished typing Snippy's name and became pleased to find out it that it filtered the search to a file with an identification picture identical to the man asleep at his desk.

"I have no need for hugs, I have something better to do, I'm afraid." I told ANNET, turning to look at her, then looking back at the screen. I heard her hover closer to the screen to analyze it, before she lowered herself to 'look' at me.

"CHARLES SNIPPY? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH HIM? HE'S NOBODY. NOTHING. JUST ANOTHER PERSON WHO'S PURPOSE IS TO WORK AND PROVIDE FOR THE GOOD DIRECTORATE FOR ALL HE'S WORTH. WHICH ISN'T REALLY THAT MUCH, TO BE HONEST."

I frowned inside my mask. "He's not nobody. He's obviously somebody to have caught my attention, even if you can't see it, my blinded electric microwave appliance." I knew she dislike being called household appliances. Which is why I did it. I could tell she was getting angry at me, because she remained staring in my direction, her blue luminescent glow starting to cause me to see white spots in my vision, even through my mask lenses.

Finally she made an auto-tuned version of a 'hmph' and glided away to talk to one of the scientists. Probably wanted to see if they would start testing my 'durability to sharp projectiles'. I went back to Snippy's file on the screen. I stared at it for a couple of seconds, just looking over his facial features. He wore a tired look on his ID, one that told of countless nights awake and fretfully turning in his bed covers and bunny pajamas. Heh, bunny pajamas, I bet he'd look cute in those, I thought, finally opening the data file. Immediately it began loading up his info.

**Charles Snippy.**  
**Worker for the GOOD DIRECTORATE. **  
**Eye Color; ****_Blue_**  
**Hair Color; ****_Brown_** (Dark Brown, actually, I thought, annoyed with the data answer.)  
**Connected to the neural interface; ****_Unable to connect to neural interface, Charlies Snippy is part of the 1% not able to connect._**  
**Info; ****_N/A_**

After reading through the file, which was pretty much filled with ineffective facts, I read through it again. The only news to me was Mr. Snippy was a part of the 1%. So he isn't hooked up to ANNET. That was absolutely great. That meant I could make him a part of my plan.

* * *

A/N: I would like to mention, you can actually see Captain throwing paper airplanes at scientists in a room next to Snippy on page 59 in panel three. So if all else is wrong, that fact remains correct. Which would explain why Snippy knew that Subject Seven was an idiot according to his emails to Gromov.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed and started following this story! I'm glad some people have found it worthy of their time. In hopes of continuation, here is chapter number two.

* * *

For the next few weeks, I began to study Mr. Snippy from afar. I was judging him, as others were judging me. I was judging him on a graded scale actually, a scale known only to me. And while he was lacking in luster, he made up for with good durability and self-discipline. Which was good, considering how he was needed hardy and impervious for the tasks ahead of him for my plan.

So far, I had learned that he speaks with an accent, akin to my own. His however, seems more western European, like British, or English instead of an North Eastern accent like my German. While it wasn't an obvious trait, he had a slight flit in his voice that could only catch his accent by training or affliction. His other speaking patterns included the phrase, 'bwah'. What it stood for, I had yet to dig out, but he seemed to commonly use it while in confusion, and sometimes surprise. Interesting choice of word for such situations, actually.

Another thing I noticed, he had a bad habit of falling asleep at his desk, like I when I had seen him for the first time. Why do I know of his habit? I was standing in front of his desk in most of my free time, and he was always out like a light. Silly man. A desk doesn't make for a good pillow, as he seems to think. Sipping a warm beverage out of a mug with a black cover and a heart adorning it that I had come to claim as my own, I studied his face again. Black scruffy hair, messy of course. Dark bags under his eyes. Visible stubble, it wasn't much, but it was still there.

Messy hair, bags, and stubble. And Snippy was constantly with such appearances... Ahh, I see now. Seems Mr. Snippy has a sleep problem. A bad one going off the state of his bags and how he'd take such a risk at work. I was pulled out of my observing when he shifted his arms from under his chin. Seems he roused by something. Snippy's eyebrows tightened and knitted themselves together, and I saw numerous muscles in his face tense, creating a look like he had just smelt something truly revolting. Sadly, I couldn't stay longer, since once he started the making of the faces, he was going to wake up soon.

My strategic plan cannot have him seeing me quite yet.

* * *

I found myself in Gromov's facilities. His office, to be more precise. I sat in a chair in front of the desk, and said Gromov sitting behind the desk across from me. He was looking at me like one would a cube with the little personal colored squares, a rubix cube. A look of frustration yet not accepting defeat, of trying to solve each side of the square in the least painless way possible. He wasn't being successful of that prospect in my eyes.

I had my hands clasped in my lap, staring back to him, his wet eyeballs into the hard-purple tinted circles of my gas mask goggles. Though he couldn't see, I was smiling at him. Not from being in his presence. Hardly. I was smiling because I had something going on behind his back, plus twisted around him in a barrel-roll, without his knowing yet. While Gromov was a genius in the sciences, he wasn't always the most common-sensed fellow. As they used to say, he was book smart, but not street smart.

His knowledge however, was part of what made him another valuable piece of the puzzle in my plan. Yes, Gromov played his part in it too, whether he was aware of it or not. For now, his role was being what allowed me access to many data files and documents, giving me the heads up of what the GOOD Directorate was up to.

Gromov cleared his throat, gaining my attention.

"So... ANNET told me you were looking through the employee data stack. Is that true, Seven?"

"Why yes, I was sir." I answered cheerfully. He gave me an unamused look.

"Why?"

"Classified information, only close members of my retaliation may know."

"...Fine then. At least tell me why you looked up one employee in particular, at the least."

"Hm, I don't know if I can do that in my contract, but I'll try my best."

"Why Charles Snippy?"

I thought for a bit, thinking of how I could slip the truth by Gromov, but without letting the dead cat out of the bag for everyone to smell its rankness.

"I found him... interesting sir. I saw him during a test session and thought to myself, 'Dayum girl, where does he gets his hair done?'. So I simply wanted to who his hairdresser is and I was disappointed to find out the system scarcely had anything on him."

A raise of a skeptic eyebrow. Next came a question, curiosity on Gromov's part. "Is that really true? While it does sound in your character, I doubt you looked up a random employee, just so you could find where he got his hair done." Critical thinking. Damn the three traits of a good scientist.

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Not to my knowledge..."

My patience was waning, "Was that all you wanted, sir?"

Gromov's expression hardened. He now carried the look of a school principal, trying to intimidate the student into confessing that they were the one to put tacks on their schoolteachers chair. Well, I was no weak-minded school boy as Gromov believed.

He spoke. "Seven, I know you've watched him while he slacked off on his work and napped on the clock. The drones give me a good view, and ANNET's looked into your recent absences," a pause for breath. " I want to know what you find so damn interesting about this nuisance of a man."

"Nuisance?!" I cried without thinking. I caught my tongue before blowing completely over, but Gromov was already on me like a kitten to yarn.

"Oh? So you think so much of him you do not consider him a nuisance? What do you really know about him? He's just another paper-pusher in the mass of desks below us. He can't even connect to ANNET for Christ's sake!"

"And that's his fault? He's part of the one percent, the percent that is immune to ANNET's signal. The percent prone to insomnia due to her constant illusions of terrible nightmares upon them. Why would a fool with his head in the ground choose a life like that?" I tossed back the pitch.

"Well it's not my fault he was born with the wrong brain signal encryption. Maybe if he were born a little luckier, he wouldn't be an annoying idiot, constantly spamming my inbox with his little, 'warnings'."

Oh, that's new information on Snippy. "What kind of warnings of impending doom does he foretell?"

Gromov groaned and leaned back in his chair, his eyes making a lap to the ceiling and back. "Again with an obsession of knowing more about a man who plays no role whatsoever in our business except to sort through documents and reports like the devolved chimpanzee he is."

I held my tongue, swallowing whatever insults and retorts I had back down my windpipe. I shouldn't encourage him to keep tearing Snippy down left and right. Really, Gromov didn't know much more about him than I, the Captain.

Instead, I rose from my chair and turned for the door. I paused my hand on the doorknob before softly saying, "He's smarter than the vegetables plugged into ANNET." And before Gromov could saying anything else, I had passed out the door and was moving else where through the facility, no longer tied down by the questions of an ignorant genius. Ironic, yet fitting for such things.

I passed effortlessly by all the other office workers, scientists, and drone bots alike. Didn't they realize their lives were being virtually by a controlling madman and his macabre corpse bride of a robot? Really, most of human life were so mundane and small-minded, that they couldn't realize for themselves that they were being controlled by the media and the dull, hypnotic voice of a person who doesn't even exist, simply a manufactured fake.

That was why I was trying to so hard and risking Gromov's attention to find out more about a man who wasn't under such effects. Yes, he did obey as he was told like a dog doing tricks, but that was all he seemed to be able to do in his present situation. It is in my plan to change such a fate for such a man.

* * *

A/N: I love doing this more than should be healthy. Also, to those who care, would you rather have regularly updated short chapters kind of like this, or would you rather longer chapters, but with larger waits as well?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, I never thought I'd make it this far into a story. So that's a good sign! I want to thank those that made it so far, you're the force that makes me write out these chapters that I would have given up on too soon before.

* * *

I found myself lingering close to Mr. Snippy's desk, even while he was awake, more and more lately. Being away from him would bring a lead weight in my belly, I couldn't be sure if Gromov would step in and ruin everything that I'd been working towards. So, the most reasonable choice of action I took was monitoring the man.

If that made me a stalker, so be it. After watching him from afar today and once his shift was over, Snippy leaving for home, I wandered back to the main control room within GOOD Directorate. I pulled up a chair and brought Snippy's data file back up, and begun to type. I typed for about a minute before stopping to read my entry over. Nodding with satisfaction to myself, I saved his file and closed it back up.

Since it seemed that the moderators did a slop job on keeping their employee data files updated, I took the liberty of keeping Mr. Snippy's tip-top shape. Today I wrote that he had eaten a bagel today. Just a bagel for what I assumed both his breakfast and lunch, presumably supper as well. Not much pay on his table if that was the case. No one would want to be a pencil-pusher on their own, unless they had superior skills among other secretaries, which I can assure you, Snippy did not own. So he's in a dead-end job.

I chewed this knowledge for a couple minutes, thinking darkly yet humorously to myself, it wouldn't do for the dead-end job to cause him to BE dead. Suddenly, the screen flashed white, and a file popped open in front of me, jolting me out of my stupor. Momentarily stunned, I read the subject heading.

_Request for Job Transfer_

_From: csnippy _

Leaning back in my chair I re-read the heading. A job transfer? A job transfer. I scrolled down and read into his request. Transferal to the Dead Zone? Speak of irony. A man in a dead-end job that could possibly die from said job due to sleep deprivation wants a transfer to the section of the Dead Zone. That's like saying you don't want tea, but you want tea anyways, with two lumps sugar and cream.

I bit my lip to hold back my chuckle from my joke, when my humor died down and became concern and distress. Yes, the Captain in distress, mark your calendars.

At that moment I had a decision at my fingertips and virtually in my hands. Accept his request and send him to the Dead Zone where he'd be more 'free' and away for the most part away from ANNET's influence but where he could die from the harsher elements of mutated flora and fauna? Where I couldn't watch him as closely as I could before and risk losing him from my plan? Or decline it and make him suffer more in a sea of paperwork and long nights of lost sleep, but where he'd be safe from the forces of an avenging Mother Nature?

Let the domestic rabbit loose into the wild, or keep it crammed in a ill-suited hutch. Ugh, I felt an impending headache coming on. Making sure no one was in the room with me, or any visionary recording devices present, I took off my mask and its attachments and set it on the dash-board next to my controls. I groaned and rubbed my temple, trying to soothe the pain in my cranium. While I preferred the privacy of emotion and identity my mask brought, sometimes it felt good to actually feel cool oxygen on my facial features, and to feel it go to my lungs without the taste that a filter brought.

Breathing slowly and stroking my temple, I went back to the matter at hand. This wasn't going to be easy. Free the rabbit but possibly lose it, or keep it locked up where it'll eventually die from lack of stimulation if not taken care of soon? Life or death, death or life, death or death...

I potentially threw a portion of my plan away when I finally made my choice of what fate would be served to Mr. Snippy.

Taking a deep breath of air, I hit reply and typed away frantically, beginning, middle, ending my closing sentence. Looking it over, the lead weight in my gut hung heavier still, I hit 'send'. Snippy was permitted to go to the Dead Zone. His fate was no longer within my full control, if the training killed him or on his first tour, so be it. If he arrives alive safely in the terminal of my operations and open arms, then my luck had not yet ceased to fail me. I had my fingers crossed for the latter.

Grabbing my mask and materials and arranging them back on meticulously, down to the last strap, I pushed myself away from the dashboard. I looked back over my previous action. Was it the right thing to do?

The 'plan' was to be in its final stretch soon, I wasn't playing a child's game anymore, I was playing chess, and my opponent could have been one of three forces. Gromov, with his intellectual mind, or ANNET, as she had the real control of things and a possible ulterior motive of her own. The third was who I worried most about. For all I know, I could be playing against Fate and Fortune himself. Hopefully he was smiling on me, not frowning. If Fate is indeed frowning, we'd all perish.

* * *

By the next week I rarely saw Snippy. He was being conditioned for the harsh environment for the Dead Zone, which didn't take place in the area of GOOD Directorate that I often roamed. He really was truly out of my sight for the most part. When I did see him, it would only be just briefly, stashing or gathering his things to either go train or go home depending on the time of day. He took less than a minute and then he'd disappear in troves of people, before I'd even realize he'd been there.

At least the training hadn't kicked him over yet, which meant that he'd have a good shot of surviving the Dead Zone. Which in the end, was all that mattered. I wasn't the man's mother after all, I did not need to pine after him like a hen with her head cut off. I had to stop circling around him eventually, now's a good time I suppose. That didn't stop me from worrying.

After a whole two days of missing Snippy, I found myself in Gromov's office again, this time by choice. The reason? I was bored, and checking up on a possible obstacle would be beneficial for when the plan would finally go full-throttle. I waited in the chair for him to enter, spinning the chair around and around. I finally started pushing myself around the office in the chair, like a little child would.  
When boredom strikes the great, things can go in any haywire direction possible. This was no exception.

"Whee!" I yelled out loud to myself, lapping the desk for the fifth time. "Come on boy, we be almost there!" The chair had become a stallion, and I spurred it on faster. Faster, faster, faster! I was almost on my twentieth lap, when the office door opened, and in my surprise, I looked towards the visitor while I was turning a sharp curve. The chair came out from underneath me, and I found myself tumbling. I caught my footing, did a barrel roll, and stood on both feet like a gymnast, just before I would have slammed into the wall.

Gromov stood in the doorway, mouth open agape, clearly wondering what he'd just walked in on and just witnessed. He looked at the upturned chair, and then to me. He closed his mouth and swallowed away whatever surprise he had.

He simply said, "I don't want to know," before proceeding into the room with caution, as if the chair would jump up and mug him. He went to his side of the desk, the one I stood at, and took the non-jockeyed chair. He turned to me in his chair, his leg crossed over the other, elbows pressed into the seats armrests.

"Well?" He asked.

"Well what?"

"What brings you to my office? Usually I have to force you to come, you don't normally come in at your own accord."

"I wished to check up on you, Mr. Gromov."

"Ah, I appreciate the action, but you don't just 'check up' on things. Unless you have another reason?"

"I genuinely came to see how you are." This was the truth, just checking on the other section of my plan to see if they'd be bailed as well.

Alexander looked me over for signs of deception, and seeing none, he melted into his chair with an air of safety and relief. "Alright," he said simply, Russian accent present as ever. "Is there anything you need then?"

"Anything I need?"

"Yes," He nodded. "While you may hold rank of Captain, you still have things you don't have access to, only moderators like me can get them." His eyes gave out a challenge. He was daring me.

Behind my mask, my mood darkened. Lord Fate and Fortune was up to his tricks now. Chess in session. Anything I need? Thinking briefly, and trying to come up with something on the spot that wouldn't jeopardize anything in the plan, yet offer an upper hand proved daunting. I finally came up with an answer.

"There is something that would be most valuable in my possession."

"Which is?" He ventured.

"I'd like a brief view at ANNET's data banks."

Those appeared to be the wrong words, I had stepped on a tender subject.

"What?" Fear became evident even with his accent.

I took a breath and tried again. "I want to see ANNET's data banks, just to see what drives her great... personality." I gagged at my lie. Personality like honey-covered barbed wire was more efficient.

Gromov still looked ill at ease, but seemed more calm to know my supposed reasoning behind the request. He looked at the ground, searching for his words, before nodding.

"Alright, I'll search for a time I can permit you to come view them with me. Would you leave my office, please?"

I took my cue to leave and exited again out that doorway. I still had pawns on my chessboard, Fate and Fortune sat across from me, lazily looking at the board, deciphering my actions. Your move, I tell him.

* * *

A/N: There's a reference to the Penumbra game series somewhere in that mess for those interested. Also, I'm proud of myself. I posted about 900 words at first for this chapter, then buffed it up to 1,823. That's the most words I've ever written for a story. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'd just like to say, this story is probably 100% demolished now by pure canon fact that has been established in Romantically Apocalyptic. Alexiuss is now on par with Hussie, as both are now commonly notorious for making readers suffer from whiplash. It's like, 'Oh, I see what's going to happen next, I so call it!' and then Vitaly is like, 'Nope' and then does something absolutely no one expected, and breaks our brain. Mine broke a fuse at least.

On a related yet irrelevant note, if you haven't yet, listen to the new RomAC music album, it's amazing. I listened to it for the majority of the conception of the chapter. I highly recommend listening to at least 'Cup of Happiness', 'I Am Alexander Gromov', and 'Travelling with Captein'. It's like crack for your ears I'm telling you. Anyways, onward with the chapter, I'll meet you at the end.

* * *

After my meeting with Gromov, I was ecstatic. This was almost too easy, everything was simply falling into my lap with open arms. I had pawns in ploy, key locations picked out, and events scheduled to my every whim or folly. Of course, in my experience, that usually meant there was to be a drawback, a small time waster. Something to make up for my expert luck and skill, naturally.

It was like how economics work, where one system goes really well, somewhere else it begins to decline. Of course, the declination never applied to me, it usually became someone elses sad downfall. If it was someone I know and particularly like, they would usually bounce back in time for my usage of course. It's just my brand of luck.

Back to my main point of verbiage. I had left Gromov's office and was heading back to my own personal domain, my head reeling, categorizing, scattergorizing, and even monopolizing my plot and plan: Meet the source, Gromov and ANNET, check. Gain an elevation of enough rank to do almost completely as I please, rose to the rank of Captain within the span of a week, check. These are the few steps that I wished to reveal, as the rest were still far off, yet within an arm's length enough away.

I know, you must be growing so tired of the suspense of waiting. That's where you must learn patience.

I had done three run-downs of what was left to accomplish, and what I needed to do when the proper time came, when a drone swooped in front of me. It's blue glow was impossible to ignore. It hovered up to my chest cavity, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

I gave in and responded, "Yes? What do you want, annoying little bot?"

"YOU ARE TO REPORT BACK TO MONITORING ROOM, GROMOV REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE." Humming, it hovered a couple of moments more, before lifting itself up and zooming away before I could get in another word.

I stood in place, watching where it'd left to. "...Okay then, Monitoring Room it is then." I shrugged my shoulders and turned back towards Gromov's office, where the Monitoring Room wasn't too far off from.

Hm, what does Gromov want now, I wondered to myself. If he had something to say, why didn't he tell me while I was in his office?

This was soon answered when I stepped foot in the room, and I heard the door slide shut and lock. The lights flipped on, and ANNET waited instead of Gromov. In the back of my head, I could hear a voice go, 'Oh, so that's why...'. I hushed it, and went back to ANNET.

"...So, you called?"

"YES, SUBJECT SEVEN. I HAVE REQUESTED YOU HERE IN PLACE OF ALEXANDER. I AM HERE TO SPEAK WITH YOU."

"Oh, I wondered what the problem with that drone you sent was. Makes perfect sense now."

"STOP PLAYING."

"I don't believe I am, I thought we were SPEAKING, like you said we're to do."

"LET ME CLARIFY; I TALK, YOU SIT DOWN AND CLAMP YOUR MOUTH SHUT."

I put my gloved hands on my hip and jutted it out to the side, tilting my head in a attitude that clearly said, 'Excuse me? What did you just tell me, PRINCESS? You did not just say that to my face.' Yes minions, I was giving ANNET sass. We were that way, steadily glaring from human to machine. Finally I sighed, pulled up a chair and seated myself, then waved a hand for ANNET to get on with her dance and song. Heh, dance and song, that'd be a delicious sight to see her in top hat and cane, singing along to an old silly ditty. That erased itself almost immediately, when her luminescent lights burst brighter to phosphorescence blinding capacity. Obviously, ANNET meant business.

"SUBJECT SEVEN, YOU ARE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE UP TO. FROM YOUR OBSERVED AND RECORDED ACTIONS, I KNOW YOU ARE PLANNING SOMETHING. AND SEEING AS YOU ARE A NEAR IDIOT, IT CANNOT PROGRESS AND MUST BE STOPPED NOW."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, shielding my eyes from her lights glare with a hand. "And I'd like to make it clear, I'm no idiot!" I cried out for good measure.

"LIES. YOU ARE PLANNING SOMETHING. CONFESS."

"All I can confess to is being screeched at by a thing with no pulse. This a waste of my time!"

"SILENCE! TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE PLANNING!" If she were human, ANNET would have been screaming at me from the top of her lungs.

I sat nonchalantly in my chair, biding my time. I rolled my shoulders back and looked off into space.

"ANSWER ME SUBJECT SEVEN!"

I gave her back my attention and threw a subtle glare, "Well, which is it? Do you want me silent, or do you want me to speak? Make up your mind!"

"I WANT YOU TO QUIT YOUR MIND GAMES, WHICH DO NOT WORK ON ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE COMPONENTS AND CONSTRUCTIONS LIKE I, AND TO TELL ME WHAT HAVE PLANNED. OR ELSE I'LL BE FORCED TO SUMMON AN EXTERMINATOR DRONE AND FORCE YOU TO TELL ME."

Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Well-played, well-played, you caught me skippy! I cursed momentarily at Fate and Fortune, and stared at ANNET, trying to think of something to say to both buy me time, as well as dig me out of my rather intimidating grave.

"I don't know what to tell you," I confessed to ANNET.

"THE TRUTH PREFERABLY." She answered without missing a beat.

"Truth is relative, and relatives can't be trusted to bring good gifts." I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. "So, I apologize in advance, but my truth is, and only is, this." I took a deep breath, "I have something so big planned, something so mind-blowingly amazing, that the whole world won't see it. It's something that can either make or break the survival of humanity and it's mentality. And if you don't like, you'll just have to deal with it, my machine friend."

ANNET just looked at me quietly, seemingly thinking calmly to my idea. No words were spoken for a time I cannot tell from this day. Then she hummed calmly, "SEND IN AN EXTERMINATOR DRONE IMMEDIATELY."

Well, it seems like I found my drawback. And for once some chump on the street doesn't have to suffer through it; I do though, which just makes it worse. I groaned with defeated breath and waited for the inevitable of the drone arriving to the scene. A feeling almost unknown to me, panic I soon remembered, was pulsing through me, from my skin to my bones. This couldn't be the end, to make it this far in my largest scheme, only to be stopped by a nosy machine of all things! What a bunch of lousy lemons life has thrown to me this round. Oh well, time to make lemonade!

ANNET was still monitoring me, I assume to see if I'd try to make a run for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something. Inclining my head just the slightest, it turned out to be a pen and clipboard with a clutch of paper pinned in it within my peripheral. Looking back at ANNET, she didn't seem the least bit wary. So I did what any man would do. I grabbed the pen and clipboard. ANNET startled backwards for a moment, before regaining her sense, as if there were any to be gained in the first place, and started forward to take away my precious items. Using superior speed and knowledge of paper crafts, I quickly created a perfected paper airplane.

At that same moment, the previously locked door unlocked itself and slid open for the drone to enter. Seeing this as my chance, I threw my flying machine at ANNET, which had most superior skills to her and struck her accurately in her vision sensors. I leaped from my chair and ran out from the room, pushing the drone into a nearby wall and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Freedom!" I cried valiantly, leaving ANNET behind in the Monitoring Room and what troubles it held. From behind me, I thought I heard the angry humming of ANNET, and the sound of fuses buzzing and hissing from one totaled drone bot. My plan was soon to be completed, even if it were the last thing I do!

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A/N: Yes, this chapter is not quite as long as I hoped for, but I felt this was a nice little cut off to end before we start again. I believe someone mentioned that the 'paper airplanes' I mentioned in the first chapter were in fact slices of cake or pizza. And looking back, I think they might indeed be cake instead. (Explains Captain's skill in handling the aliens who abducted Snippy.) So I put a paper airplane in this chapter too. Hopefully there will be more upcoming chapters, so I just want to thank you for reading a second thanks to those who have put up and stuck along with the story thus far. Hello, good-bye, hello, good-bye.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for such a large wait, school has me pinned down and the moment, but I decided to deliver, and deliver I did. Also you will more than likely hate me once you get finished reading.

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The days after ANNET's attempt at getting information from me, she had grown more to loath me than most. Understandable in the least, attacking her with a paper airplane and all. But her attitude wouldn't have been an issue, weren't it for the fact, she had somehow blocked and banned me from many files and reports on GOOD Directorate's servers. And to increase the size of the issue, she decided also to not report to Gromov on the topic.

Well fine, if she was going to play hard ball, I'd play as well and strike her out with the home run of a sucker punch. It wouldn't matter soon anyhow. Angry robot or no angry robot, the plan was to proceed to full complication regardless what all the other minorities thought. My decision is decree by the authority of I. Yes, so it'd seem most of fun and games play was coming to a close for remainder of carrying out of my plan.  
Tell us, tell us, what is your full plan Captain, one might be begging for me to answer now. Patience, patience, time and time again, patience, I say to them. Soon it will all be apparent once my puzzle pieces fall to place.

Enough of that play on words now.

It had been about a week since Mr. Gromov said he'd allow me access to ANNET's data banks. I was growing increasingly perturbed with each hour of wait. Yes, patience is key I say. One can only take patience so far before they start to get annoyed with their preacher however. Yes, I have just contradicted myself and fitted virtue to fit my own needs to ward off curious folk who have ability to ruin the whole punchline. So be patient, while I grow impatient.

How I wish I could finally just go to the data banks and get it on and over with. But as the saying goes, a man will make it so you wait just long enough for him to get ready, a important man with money will make you wait till' he's damn ready. Gromov was the latter, naturally of course. Speaking of that man, I was currently camping outside his office. My back was against the cold surface of the opaque blue-hued material of the door. I couldn't tell if it was metal, glass, or if it was even a solid. Could have been plasma for all I knew. My knees pulled to my chest, and my left hand grasped my right so to keep my legs tucked in. This is a picture of a man who has grown tired of waiting, so is going to great lengths to get what they want.

I looked up to the white glow of the ceiling lights above. They gave everything underneath it a pale wash, giving me the appearance of a gray-scale WWII soldier, rather than someone with a full-color scheme. I sighed. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes I had waited so far at Gromov's personal office door. What could he be doing that lasts half an hour?! Instantaneously a visual of Gromov counting the dust microbes that accumulated on his shoe hit me. Quite the long run even for someone so persnickty, but it entertained me for a full five more minutes before I had to take up a different tactic.

Looking around growing more bored by the second, I sighed again, my mask filter amplifying my volume. Looking to my hands, I forced my fingers to snap. Snap. Snap. Snap, snap, snap snap snapsnapsnapsnap! I flicked my wrist inward and the snap traveled to my left, going at the fevered pace my right had previously taken. Snapsnapsnap! I switched hands again, my snaps filling my ears so I hadn't heard someone come in front of me.

"How come whenever I find you at my office, you're doing something weird?" I looked up at Gromov, who had his facial equivalent to my angry stare. His head was tilted inward at the slightest degree, left eyebrow quirked downwards, the respective eye squinted so much you could only see a sliver of his gaze. In contrast, his right eyebrow was raised and eye opened casually. His lips twisted into something that was between a scrutinize and tasting something sour. It was something somewhat akin to a wince, but not as painful looking and more drawn out.

I had deemed this look for Gromov the 'Judge', because whenever he had this expression on his face, someone must have said something stupid or contradictory to their previous statements. Whenever this face appeared, that meant he was seriously judging their sanity, I.Q., and how they've lived this long without dying of stupid.

And currently that look was directed at me. Not a good way to start my day nor start this meeting. Having someone being judgemental of your intelligence was also a real mood dropper.

"I was playing with zee Snap."

"The what?"

"Zee Snap." I snapped a finger to demonstrate.

"...So, you were snapping your fingers like an idiot, and fooooor what?" The eyebrow rose even higher than I thought possible as human standards.

"Zee Snap," I retorted while I stood up, punching a finger into the air with great authority, "is a monumental potential energy that is a mighty force to be reckoned with!"

I looked over to Gromov. He had a palm over his face, and I could hear him breathe out with great force.

"Never mind, I give up trying to understand what you're trying to convey. Just get into my office." The door slid open and we both entered and set the earlier interaction aside.

I took the seat at the front of his desk, while Gromov took the one behind it.

"So what's today's visit for," he inquired, I detected annoyance and mild dread at whatever he predicted I would propose. "Unless it's something... different?"

Without beating around the proverbial bush, I told him, "I still want to see the data banks. I've waited long enough, and I am getting tired of waiting." I brought my hands to fold together neatly into my lap.

"Er, yes about that..." Gromov's eyes shifted to his desk, his eyes finding the oil stains and rust marks from his excursions and bringing tools and bits of metal to play around with when he got stuck signing signatures and paperwork that he couldn't just pass off to an office jockey.

I tilted my head slowly. "About what?" The word 'what' was emphasized with an underlying threat and my own displeasure.

"Um, well, yes about your request to visit them, and I know I had previously gave you access and said we'd go see them but after much time and regulations, and I-"

"Quit wasting your breath and spit it out!" Quit dancing around it and just tell me before I make you tell me, I thought angrily.

"Um... I've pulled your visit back and had it denied..." His eyes glanced up, then back to the oil stain.

I stared at him long and hard. If there was anything that could really drive my nerves to their limits, it was poor excuses and broken promises. And Gromov just killed both birds with one stone.

"Why?" I drawled hotly.

"Um, ANNET asked me not to, and I figured it'd be for the better."

"Ugh, you and zat machine!" I throw my hands up in the away and stood abruptly from my seat. Gromov flinched back into his and pulled away from his desk, farther from me.

"She's- It's playing you, Gromov!" I yelled loudly. "Even I can see that, and I have trouble understanding the primitive mind and how unimaginative it is!" I flailed my hands around, then fisted them up by my sides.

"Please stop yelling," he whimpered, Gromov having curled up into a ball to protect himself from the volume of my words of truth.

"Nein! Hear me well Gromov, that machine is going to be the ultimate downfall of civilization, not what you otherwise believe!"

Horror, confusion, desperation. It was all painted over the engineer's face so blatantly like a clown standing in a snow storm.

I took a break to catch my breath, my chest rose steadily with my heavy breathing. I took a step back, not for my sake, but for the other so he wouldn't die from shock or a heart attack, both looking prominent. Gromov looked at me to be a nuclear bomb that was waiting for the right reactivity to blow up and send the building I stood in to ashes. Maybe he was right.

"You're wrong, " he said weakly, "ANNET is going to be what saves us. And just to prove it, we'll go down right now so you can see her data banks for yourself and end whatever conspiracy you have in that crazy mind of yours." Numbly he rose out of his seat for the door, but he made sure to round a large gap between him and me. I followed behind and made sure he felt my gaze in the back of his head. I put a hand into my large coat pocket and pulled out my mug. Muttering darkly in the recess of my mind, I carried it in both hands and thanked the warmth that it provided.

Anyone who saw us on the way down to the data banks were all sure to avoid us, my presence alone to send them back to their desks. I even saw one do a direct u-turn and go into the opposite genders bathroom stall. Shrieks came directly after inevitably.

Finally after a good ten minutes walk and multiple stairways, as the last thing anyone wanted to do was be stuck in an elevator with me, we arrived at a busy junction. Scientists, other engineers, and drones populated it, some working on computers or those blue headsets of theirs, engineers slaving away at their trade, and the drones hovering and monitoring all who passed by.

But that wasn't all. Large boxy machines, with circuit breakers, floppy disks and hard drives, wires poking out from underneath motherboards. This was the mother load. I began to walk around on my own to the protest of Gromov, who tried to follow but soon lost me in the crowd of administrators and other computer geeks. I passed large computer monitors and their equally huge screens, similar to the one I had accessed Snippy's bio on. The only difference was these were processing binary codes, random numbers that I hadn't the slightest at how to decode, much less code in general. Shifting my gaze, I felt my breath catch in my throat. There it was... The data banks that made all this possible. Slowly I approached it, my eyes wide behind my mask.

My plan was soon to be complete. It was just right there, just an arms with away. I stepped up to it and gingerly fingered a configuration that I hadn't the slightest at what it's purpose is. All this time and preparation, and it was going to finally pay off. A mighty weight fell off my shoulders, and I could finally take an easy breath. My shoulders lax, I casually looked the data bank over again. This is it-and then suddenly I was lurched forward, someone tripped behind me and shoved me forward. My hands propelled forward and gripped the corners of the data banks. My panic momentarily forgotten, I looked back down. Smoking and fizzing sparks were my first signs that something was off. My mug on it's side and for once empty of contents was another. And the smell of burning tea leaves and a wet counter top were the final straw.

Before we continue on, I would just like to comment, while I did intend to hijack the data banks, while it did work, pouring my delicious tea wasn't my original plan. And the panic that was soon to follow could have all been avoided otherwise. But as that was not the case, the panic soon washed over the entire establishment.

I pushed myself away from the smoking data banks, the smoke rising and the sparks fizzing at a tremendous rate. Then the noise. It was almost like a blood-curdling scream, weren't it for the sirens going along with it. I ran looking for Gromov among the crowds of confused workers. If what I think happened happened, we needed to get out, and fast. I saw him in front of my path, and I ran ahead, grabbed him by the shoulders and busted a butt for the nearest exit.

Forcing him to run at a break neck pace, he hissed airily, "What did you do?! Seven, what the fuck did you just do?!"

Unable to answer him, a stitch digging into my sides, I hurried onwards. Alarms and sirens, smoke and screaming, that was all that was going on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gas that was most definitely not smoke started to seep into the halls. I came to an abrupt stop and asked Gromov urgently, "Do you have a gas mask?"

"Not on me, wh-" I cut him off and suddenly with a swift hit to his shoulder and his strangled cry, he went out cold.

"I ought to just leave you here with the neurotoxins, with what I'm about to do if I didn't need you so much in the future," I growled angrily. I took off my hat, cramming it into a pocket and stripped off my gas mask, attaching it to Gromov's face instead. The neurotoxin growing increasingly nearer and more than likely closer than what I thought, I took a large breath to fill my lung to full capacity and held my breath, throwing the man with me over my shoulder like a sack. Running around corners, past corpses still wearing their headsets, some looking like they simply fell asleep, others who have their faces contorted into anguish and terror, some even clutching at their throats. I shook my head sadly as I ran past, wishing it didn't have to happen this way. Finally I came across an exit. But it shrouded in an evident cloud of neurotoxins. My eyes burned already, and my air supply was almost depleted. I dove into the cloud and forced it open, thanking my luck that it was unlocked. My lungs burned, my eyes even more. Reluctantly they kept closing on me, soon I was running blindly through whatever sick maze this place had turned into.

I ran face first into something, and my hand reached out desperately, and rewarded with buttons. I pushed blindly forward. The door wouldn't open. Why wouldn't it open? It needed to open! Finally my reflexes and instincts couldn't hold out anymore. I took a breath. Not a little one either, another large, lung filling intake. Oh dear god, what did I just do. My throat burned, this wasn't supposed to happen! I rammed into the door again. I felt strength leaving me. No, no! It couldn't end like this! Maybe again! I whacked the buttons frantically, time and life fading me fast, even more so with the weight of another life on my shoulders. The door opened. I dove inside and the door slide shut behind me. It was dark, oh so dark... I felt myself collapse, Gromov falling beside me limply. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad after all... and... what a pretty little light...

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A/N: Ah, I feel so many angry glares on me now. Welp, here you go, happy update!


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